


whatever happened to the teenage dream

by spock



Category: Cuffs (TV)
Genre: Bickering, Bickering as Flirting, Bodyguard, Canon-Typical Violence, Flirting, Getting Back Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Break Up, Schmoop, Unresolved Romantic Tension, to Resolved Romantic/Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 02:24:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17133269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spock/pseuds/spock
Summary: Simon in cozy jumpers and soft, designer sweats do nothing but remind Jake of a domestic bliss that had soured far too quickly, and that he wishes he didn’t miss half as much as he does.





	whatever happened to the teenage dream

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MeganMoonlight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeganMoonlight/gifts).



He hates that they’re in plainclothes. The assignment is bad enough as it is, but something about not being able to hide behind his vest leaves Jake feeling like he’s about to wig right out of his skin. He has no idea what to do with his hands that doesn’t come across as at least mildly awkward. 

Ryan brings their shoulders together, brushing Jake to the side a little. “Knock already,” he says. 

Jake frowns. “ _You_ knock already.”

Eyebrows go up in conjunction with the downturn of Ryan’s mouth, his unimpressed face. Jake is well aware that he’s being ridiculous and doesn’t appreciate Ryan’s to emote it all over the place. He draws in a deep breath and then finally raises his fist, delivering two hard raps. Ryan nods at him in approval, and Jake can’t help but stand a little bit taller next to him. He’s been practicing. 

Simon answers the door promptly, looking surprised to see them there. Jake’s seen him around the station, but they don’t really speak if Jake can help it. Simon opens his mouth, the curve of his smirk sign enough Jake likely won’t like whatever cheeky remark Simon’s got lined up, so he beats him to it.

“Simon Reddington?” he asks. 

It throws Simon off his game and he looks at the both of them in askance. “What is this?” he asks. “Some strange knock, knock, ginger variant? I could have you sent down for disturbing the peace, you know.”

That’s his identity confirmed, then. 

“Constable Vickers and I are attempting to run this one by the book,” Ryan says. There’s a long and noticeable pause before he tacks on, “sir.” Though being forced to say it looks like it may have done Ryan some damage internally, the word having been dredged up from the very depths of him, by the sound of it. 

“Well, by all means, PC Draper,” his eyes come back to focus on Jake, and Jake does his best to weather them. “Student Constable Vickers, do go right ahead.”

Jake licks his lips. “There have been serious threats made against your person that were found credible. PC Draper and I are here to serve as your close protection officers until the suspect has been detained or the threat has been found negligible.”

Simon blinks at them a few times, and Jake feels a nasty swell of pride settle in his stomach, to have finally caught the other up short for once. “Alright,” he says, licking his lips. “And who is it that wants me dead, then?”

Jake tells him, slightly vicious in his delivery, “Just how many people do you have out there who’d want you dead? Who do you think? Reece Gutridge.”

Ryan closes his eyes and breathes very slowly. When he reopens them he keeps his gaze trained on Simon, likely trying to hold himself back from giving Jake one on the back of his head. “Not at liberty to say yet, sir,” Ryan explains, as if Jake hadn’t said anything at all. “Presumption of innocence, and all.”

“I hadn’t been notified that Gutridge was up for release,” Simon sounds uneasy at the thought of it. 

“He broke out,” Ryan says it matter-of-fact, stuffing his hands into the pocket of his zip-up, giving up on professionalism like he couldn’t care less. Jake supposes that it’s probably as simple as that for him, and wishes desperately that he felt the same. Jake’s still stood with his spine is ramrod straight. “Jake will be staying up here with you as the last line of defense, given his familiarity with the layout of the building. I’ll be on the street in an unmarked patrol car, keeping lookout.”

“Right,” Simon nods. Jake wonders if he’s ever dealt with this before. Simon moves to the side of the door and waves his hand towards the front room. “Well, come in. You know where everything is.”

Jake casts one last look at Ryan, who mouths _don’t cock this up up_ at him before he turns ‘round and jogs down the stairs back to the ground floor. Jake tries not to think anything about cocks with Simon in such immediate vicinity. It’s hard enough seeing him around work in those tailored suits of his; Simon in cozy jumpers and soft designer sweats do nothing but remind Jake of a domestic bliss that had soured far too quickly and that he wishes he didn’t miss half as much as he does. 

Simon closes the door behind them and follows behind Jake into the living room. “So,” he says, “volunteer, did you?” 

The flippancy gets Jake’s back up. “Duty inspector thought it was funny, more like.” He sits down on Simon’s soft white couch and stares at the fireplace. They hadn’t made it to the end of autumn, back when they were together. It’s the first chance he’s had to actually see it in use now that winter has finally shown up, a bit later than usual in the year. “Good learning opportunity.”

“Glad they’re taking my safety seriously.”

Shrugging off his denim jacket and holding it out for Simon to take, Jake doesn’t bother biting back his sigh. “It’s not like I’m about to let anything happen to you, now am I?”

Simon’s expression turns decidedly pleased and Jake realizes a bit belatedly that he may have been had. He shakes his head and tries not to let his feelings show on his face, adding, “Stay away from the windows if you can help it, and let me be the one to run to the newsagent if you need anything.” He carries on, proud of how steady his voice keeps, “Or if you’re expecting someone to come ‘round.” 

He doesn't appreciate at all how close Simon is as he sits down next to Jake on the couch. “Sounds easy enough,” he says. “And what is it that you’ll be doing?”

“I’m fine sitting here, thanks.” 

The undercurrent of flirtation drops from Simon’s tone, gone the tilt of his body towards Jake’s. “You can’t be serious. You’re just going to sit out here all night?”

“That is my job.” Jake’s glad to finally have Simon thrown-off whatever game it was he imagined himself playing. “Ryan and I will be here through the night, and then you’ll have another set of officers to relieve us in the morning. Two of us will be back again for another night shift after that, and on it goes until we catch him.”

Simon still doesn’t look like he doesn’t quite believe him, so Jake resolves to be the model officer, wary and on alert for any scheme Simon might be brewing. 

“Suit yourself, then.” Simon stands and raises his arms above his head, a long stretch that Jake only catches out the corner of his eye because he has enough willpower not to fall for that one. “I’ll just finish up on my work, then.” He gets about halfway to his desk before he turns back to look at Jake, offering, “Would you care for some wine?”

“Ta,” Jake says, just to throw Simon off a little more. He lets Simon pour him a glass of whatever fancy label he’s nipping on himself, so unlike the plonk Jake and his friends used to guzzle down from the off-license, and then lets it sit on the side table next to him, untouched, as he watches Simon work, keeping his ears and eyes open for anything strange. 

Ryan radios in a few times, checking in, but besides that, it’s pretty boring, all told. Jake sneaks looks at his phone when Simon’s particularly engrossed and not likely to catch him, smiling a stupid meme Lito’s shared in their group chat. 

“New boyfriend?” Simon asks. He’s swiveled his chair around, catching Jake in the act. 

Jake thumbs the screen off and turns his phone over in his lap. “What,” he asks, before he can really think about what he’s doing and properly stop himself. “You mean one that doesn’t drop me in it?”

Simon clearly hadn’t been expecting Jake to bring it up; his face gets angry. It’s a first. Jake’s never actually seen him get all that upset, not even in court. “I have a duty,” he says, “and so do you. Why is it so hard for you all to get that you can’t play fast and loose with people’s rights? The procedures exist for a reason. If things aren’t fair across the board, then what’s the point of either of us?”

He hates the pedantic tone Simon’s using on him, as if Jake made the error on purpose. As if he’s dirty. “And why is it so hard for you to see the bloody spirit of the law matters more, sometimes,” he says, practically spitting out the words. He’s done his time begging for Simon to understand him, the lot of good it did him. He’s glad to find that he hasn’t fallen back into that old habit again. “Or, at the very least, grasp the fucking concept of loyalty.”

Simon scoffs at him and stands, crossing the short distance between them until he’s stood in front of Jake. Jake has to ball his hands into fists at his knees to keep himself seated. He’s working, and this is unprofessional enough as it is. He’d had his record marked for the mistake with the identity parade witness, a setback to his becoming a graduated constable in a timely fashion, but that had been the end of it. 

Receiving an ABH offense for laying one on Simon when Jake’s supposed to be protecting him would be far, far worse, in the scheme of things, even if everyone would likely understand. Simon would likely present the charges against Jake himself. 

Or perhaps he’d ask to be assigned as Jake’s duty solicitor, just to prove a point.

“Like asking your partner to risk the whole of his career just to save you from taking a slap to the wrist during your training period, Constable Vickers?” Simon asks. “Because you couldn’t man up and own your mistake? Real loyal that. Whatever could I have been thinking, to be so selfish.”

Jake feels like Simon’s struck him. He hadn’t actually considered that and him failing to do so makes Simon’s accusations feel all the worse. Jake shakes his head, thinking about what all the detectives had said, as well as his friends. It had been Simon that’d been unreasonable, and Jake was well within his rights to drop him.

He shouldn’t have let himself be drawn into this. He’s at an insurmountable disadvantage, arguing being exactly what Simon does for a living. “I think you should go to bed, sir,” Jake says, unwilling to let Simon have the last word. “You’re due in for court in the morning, your schedule said. Wouldn’t want you to be late.”

Simon stares at him, blank-faced, and then laughs, abruptly. It doesn’t at all sound amused. “Marvelous,” he says. He nods a little to himself, as if something's been decided. “You really are a born and bred copper, Jake. That steadfastness to only see things from your own side could do wonders, truly. It’s astounding.” 

He picks up Jake’s glass from the table and drains it in one go, setting it back down before he turning and disappearing into the bedroom. The bastard doesn’t even bother to slam it, the door closing behind him softly with a click.

Jake stands up, as if a spell’s been broken, and paces a few steps towards the bedroom before realizing what it is he’s doing. He turns on his heel and makes for the kitchen instead, aiming to draw himself a glass of water from the faucet. 

It’s going to be a long night.

—

Simon’s done up in what has to be his best cold-weather clubbing outfit when Jake shows up for his rotation the next night. He’s got on this expensive-looking blue jumper with the hint of a deep red shirt t-shirt peeking from the collar, the fit of it doing wonders for his arms.

Jake’s always liked Simon in blue. _Had_ always liked Simon in blue; he’s got no such opinions now. 

“Did I catch you on your way out?” Jake asks, aiming for unimpressed. They hadn’t said a word to one another in the morning while Jake had waited for Misha to come and relieve him. 

“Case ended well today,” Simon informs him. “Figured I’d go out to celebrate.”

Jake plasters a fake smile on his face and asks, with feigned interest, “Oh? Get a murder back on the streets, did we?”

Simon smiles back at him intensely, stepping in close so that Jake has to look up to meet his eye. His heart starts racing, positively Pavlovian, at having Simon so close, looking the way he does. 

“Got a victim of people trafficking permission to remain in country,” he says. His voice always sounds even raspier from up close, like he is now. Jake feels a blush spread across his face; he isn’t sure if it’s from him throwing himself in it with the accusation or just having Simon so near again. 

“Anyway,” Simon continues, “I guess you’ll be joining me to Club Revenge tonight, being my detail and all. It’ll be like old times,” his gaze drifts over Jake, top to tail, and Jake realizes that while he certainly doesn’t look _bad_ , what he’s got on — black henly, black jeans, his usual denim jacket — isn’t exactly what he’d wear on a night out, especially not with Simon looking like that. 

Jake tells himself that he couldn’t care either way, really. He’s working, and well over Simon besides. He can handle watching a bunch of legless twinks fawning over Simon, on the prowl for a sugar daddy. Simon’s looks might reel them in, but his personality will scare them off, Jake’s sure.

Well, he suspects, anyway. Not that he cares. 

“I wouldn’t recommend venturing into crowded areas,” Jake warns him. 

Simon gives him the look he always used to, right before he’d call Jake gorgeous or sweet or any other number of things. He doesn’t do that now, though, just leaves it with the look. “Noted,” he says. 

Jake takes it that he’s still going. He pulls the radio out from his back pocket and says to Ryan, “Reddington’s going out tonight.” Letting go of the PTT button, he asks Simon, “You’re taking the Porsche?” 

Simon smiles wider at him. “I’m sure I’ll be too pissed to bring us back, so you can do the honors. Can’t be drink-driving while I’ve got a bobby with me, can I?”

Giving him a withering look, Jake engages the radio again, “We’ll be driving, be prepared to follow. Destination is 32-34 Old Steine, over.”

Simon hands over his key to the parking valet and then heads straight for the bar once they’re inside. Jake does his best to case the building as he struggles through the crowd to keep close to Simon’s side, reorienting himself of the various exits and staff doorways. Ryan will be keeping an eye on anyone coming and going from the club, but it’s Jake’s duty to be aware of those already inside. 

“What’ll you have?” Simon asks him, once Jake’s finally able to squeeze past a necking couple to claim a space next to Simon at the bench. “My treat.”

“Schweppes,” Jake says, directly to the bartender and doesn’t let the smile threatening to break out across his face surface at Simon’s exaggerated groan. 

“How boring.”

Simon just about downs his drink while Jake nurses his, casting his eyes around them. Simon starts talking to a man next to him, a well-built bloke that’s somehow even taller than him, and Jake doesn’t let himself get jealous over it. He always gets himself into trouble when he lets his emotions get the better of him, and he really doesn’t want Simon’s potential harm to be on him having lost his focus. 

A man comes up and says hello to Jake, clearly interested, but Jake begs off. Not long after, another shows up, and then another, a whole procession of them all within a span of fifteen minutes, give or take. The ninth guy has trouble taking Jake’s well-meaning brush off at face value, so he snaps, “Alright mate, piss off.” 

Someone drapes themselves over Jake’s back, hooking their chin over Jake’s shoulder, and Jake can tell from the feel of the hand that settles over his stomach that it’s Simon. “Oi,” he says, “This one’s taken.”

The guy rolls his eyes and says, “You might have said,” as if _that’d_ been the problem, before finally disappearing into the crowd. 

Simon turns his head, lips pressed to Jake’s cheek, and says, “How is it that I came here to make you jealous, yet you’re the one doing all the pulling? You aren’t even on the hunt!” He sounds far gone already and Jake curses himself for getting distracted enough that he hadn’t been able to pay attention to Simon’s drinking. 

Jake places his hand over Simon’s and tries to shore up his posture, Simon’s weight threatening to topple him over. “I told you once, didn’t I?” Jake says, and hates how fond his voice has gotten. “Hard to compete with hot young things, ay, old man? And here you are, propping up the bar after all.”

“You’re propping me up.” Simon shifts his hand under Jake’s shirt, palm hot against Jake’s skin. 

His pulse starts to race a little, heart thudding in his chest. “That’s because you’ve downed the whole bar, you silly fish.” 

“Reddington!” a voice says, somewhere off to the left of them. Then a fist comes flying right past Jake’s face, connecting solidly with Simon’s eye, sending him down to the floor. His nails scrape against Jake’s stomach on his way back. 

Training kicking in, Jake launches himself at the man, shouting, “Police! Everyone make room,” as he wrestles the assailant to the floor and onto his front, trapping the man’s hands at the small of his back without much effort. 

“That arsehole never returned my calls!” he shouts, twisting his head to one side. “Just who do you think you are, huh, Simon? Treating me like that!”

The security guards show up then, and Jake has to shift the man’s wrist over to one of his hands so that he can use the other to fish his badge out from his back pocket. 

They help Jake get the man up and hold him so that Jake can check on Simon. 

“Looks like multiple people _do_ want you dead,” Jake notes, softening his words with a light pass of his knuckles over Simon’s cheek. “At least it was just the eye this time, can you see alright?” 

“You’re a fit but infuriating blur.”

Jake nods. “Sounds about right.” 

The guards take the man into a back room to wait for the officers they’ve rung to collect him, and Jake takes Simon outside, heading for Ryan’s car. He gets a look for breaking Ryan’s cover, but Jake honestly can’t be bothered. 

“Oi, how come you get all the excitement?” Ryan asks, even as he’s twisting to reach into the glove box for their aid kit. 

“Oh, you know me,” Jake says, settling Simon down onto the back seat, his feet resting on the pavement, “always sticking my neck in.” 

“Does he need proper seeing to?” Ryan nods at Simon’s eye. 

“I am right here, you know,” Simon informs them, sounding miserable. 

“May as well,” Jake says. And so Ryan calls it in, and they wait. 

Lino and Donna show up to collect Simon’s attacker fairly promptly. They spot Jake stood out by the car, and make their way over, glancing at Simon. 

“I love this,” Donna says, Lito nodding his head in agreement next to her. “I mean, I’m glad you’re not dead, sorta” she adds, “but mate, you wear a bruise beautifully.” 

Simon makes another of his miserable sounds and leans forward to bury his face in Jake’s stomach. Jake lets him, figuring that he’s drunk and perhaps concussed and potentially blind, and due some kindness. He strokes his hand through Simon’s hair, scratching at his scalp. “Alright, leave him be. He’s under our protection you know,” he says.

Donna gives him a wide-eyed look and points at Simon, throwing a few indecipherable hand gestures his way, though he manages to suss out her meaning well enough. He rolls his eyes at her and then nods up the street, spotting the ambulance. “The cavalry's arrived,” he says to Simon, “Let’s get you seen to. I’m sure the terrible twosome should go collect their assailant.”

Jake gets his hand tended while they check over Simon with a pen torch, eventually declaring him fit to go after giving the both of them a few cold compresses. 

The valet brings the car out from parking and Jake drives them home. Ryan helps him get Simon up the stairs and into his flat, but he calls it quits there, not willing to go so far as to help Jake get him into bed. It’s hard, maneuvering a man half a head taller than him, but Jake’s had some practice dealing with drunks in his line of work, nevermind with Simon himself after a few of their wilder nights, and he does manage to get Simon onto his mattress without dropping him.

“I’m too old to sleep with my clothes on,” Simon whines, his head trapped inside his jumper. Jake sighs and helps rid him of it without too much damage being done to the thing, and then gets to work on undoing Simon’s belt, until he’s left in his pants and the soft-looking red t-shirt he’d had on underneath. 

Simon catches hold of Jake’s hand as he’s about to pull away, aim frighteningly good for someone with one eye swollen shut and who is pissed off their head besides. “Sleep with me,” he says.

“Simon,” Jake can’t help from smiling, charmed despite himself, even though this is hardly Simon at his most full-on. Perhaps because of that, even. “I’m not fucking you while you’re drunk and mildly concussed.”

“Well that was presumptuous.” Simon manages to get his arms out of his shirt and pull it over his head, casting it down to the floor. “I meant for you to stay in the bed with me. No better way to keep watch, right?”

Jake sighs and prays that this isn’t the night Gutridge manages to sneak past Ryan and kill the both of them in their sleep, because somehow he knows he’d never quite hear the end of it, even in death. He shrugs off his jacket and pulls his shirt over his head, making quick work of his trousers, until he’s left in his just pants as well. 

Simon has managed to dig his way beneath the blankets while Jake undressed, and Jake joins him there, sliding a bit closer to reap the benefits of where Simon’s body has already started to warm the sheets. Simon closes the rest of the gap, twisting his long limbs around Jake’s. He always did complain of how warm Jake’s body ran, but that had been in the summer. 

“Not complaining now, are you, you bloody octopus?” Jake teases. 

“You’re awful,” Simon complains anyway. He’s silent for a moment and then says, “It started cooling down right after you moved out, you know? It was awful. It’s terrible making sure everyone gets their due, but it’s my job. My whole, entire job, Jake. And you lot can hate me for it, but it’s what I believe in.”

Jake doesn’t put too much stock in what Simon’s saying, but he knows that the emotions behind it are likely true enough. “I don’t hate you for it,” Jake tells him. “I want to shake you, half the time, but I also think about kissing you more than is probably healthy, so it balances out.”

Simon twists and does kiss him. Jake kisses back, running his hand of the arm he isn’t laying on up and down Simon’s side, enjoying the feel of his ribcage beneath the skin. Simon moves one of his legs between Jake’s, their hips slotting up just right, and Jake pulls back. “I thought we weren’t fucking.”

“We’re not,” Simon agrees. He pushes his hand into Jake’s pants and wraps it around Jake’s dick, halfway to erect just from a few kisses and the feel of Simon’s skin, Christ, it’s like he’s a teenager again. Simon falls asleep like that, near-instantly, a few deep breaths and he’s out like a light. Jake’s always envied how easily Simon seems to manage to fall asleep. 

Simon’s a fairly good sleep aid in himself, though. Jake listens to him breathe, closing his eyes and idly rubbing his hand up and down Simon’s back again, and eventually falls asleep himself.

—

Banging at the door wakes him the next morning. Simon doesn’t stir at all, and Jake has to do some gymnastics to free himself the loose but surprisingly unshakable grip Simon’s kept all night on his more sensitive bits, and then again from the way Simon’s limbs are still all tangled up with his.

Jake answers the door still half-asleep and in his pants. Ryan’s on the other side, not looking unshocked, but certainly not very pleased. 

“Call just came in,” he says. “They caught Gutridge lurking around Platform 8, heading to Lewes.”

Jake tries to process that. “Who the fuck goes to Lewes?”

“Got family there or something. Felix said that was where they should focus the effort, and sure enough.”

Simon picks that moment to stumble out of the bedroom, scratching at himself through his pants. Jake hates that he finds him attractive, even like that. It’s embarrassing, is what it is, and from the look Ryan’s giving him, he's come to the same assment as Jake. 

“Did you say Gutridge’s been detained?” Simon calls over.

“Yeah,” Ryan answers. To Jake, “I’m heading to mum’s, see if I can get back in time to get the kids to school from hers. Make sure you debrief with Webb before heading home,” he says _home_ like he fully suspects Jake to come back here instead of actually going back to his parent's house, but feels the need to try and save Jake anyway. 

“I’ll head over right now,” Jake promises. 

Ryan looks like he believes that even less. “Sure,” he says, and then leaves.

“Well this whole thing has been a non-event,” Simon declares. 

Jake walks back into the flat and makes his way into the kitchen, speaking to Simon as he goes. “That’s usually how these things play out, you know. We police do try to stop things before they actually happen.”

“You don’t say?” Simon comes up behind him and wraps his arms around Jake’s waist, hugging him to his chest. He starts to nurse a mark high on Jake’s neck, something even the flipped collar of his jacket will do a piss-poor job of hiding once he’s forced to make a walk of shame through the station. "I can't believe there wasn't a bombing," he complains. "Or that I survived."

“You’ve been watching too much of the Beeb,” Jake tells him. 

Not pulling away so much as instead speaking directly into Jake’s skin, Simon says, “I’m honestly impressed by the sheer competence of the whole operation.”

Jake wonders how much that took out of him, to give a compliment, backhanded as it might be. 

He manages to restrain himself to just the one appreciative kiss after Simon makes them both breakfast. When he gets to the station he goes straight for Webb, somehow managing to aviod anyone he knows. He keeps himself angled off to the side as Webb debriefs him, hiding Simon's mark. He’s given the rest of the day off, to catch up on the sleep he absolutely hadn’t actually sacrificed, not that Webb needs to know that. 

Ryan’s in the locker room when Jake steps in, eager for a change of clothes. He spots the mark right away. 

“You going to give that another go ‘round, then?” he asks. 

Jake sort of shrugs. “Glutton for punishment, me.” 

Ryan shakes his head. “Nah.” He pulls his backpack over his shoulder and bumps his shoulder into Jake’s on the way out. “You’re alright.”

Jake does go back to Simon’s instead of heading home, because he is that predictable. Simon answers the door a second after Jake knocks, like maybe he was hovering near it, eager for Jake to come back. Very predictable, then. Simon’s wearing clothes, something that hadn't been the case when Jake left about an hour ago. 

“Just had to cover up, did you?” Jake complains, half serious. 

Simon licks his lips. “Cold in here without you saving me from having to run the heat.”

The sort of stare at one another. Jake isn’t sure what he should do, or say.

“Slower this time, maybe,” is what he decides on, eventually. 

“What?” Simon asks, smiling, “I quite liked having a live-in boyfriend. Your cooking was shit, but you certainly pull your weight in the bedroom.”

Jake smiles and looks down at their feet, nearly touching, him in trainers and Simon’s barefooted. “Fuck off,” he says. 

Simon steps close, and Jake’s glad he’s looking down. He’s not sure what he’d do in this moment, if he had to look up to keep Simon’s gaze. Kiss him, probably. 

“I think we were fine,” he says, serious. His nose brushes Jake’s forehead, and Jake doesn’t think it’s an accident. “You just gave up a little too quick. It was only our first row, wasn’t it?”

Jake hates admitting that he’s wrong, so he tries to just think of this as Simon being right, if just the once. “Maybe I did,” he agrees. 

“And maybe I should have fought a little harder,” Simon allows, “And comforted you a bit, instead of acting like a feelingless solicitor.”

Jake smiles at the floor. “There’s no maybe for that one.”

“Oh, alright.” Simon shifts and Jake can practically hear his smile. “The cheek on you.” His finger hooks into the waist of Jake’s jeans, and it finally gets him to look up at Simon, who’s bent down just a ways so that their faces are nearly level, his nose brushing against Jake’s. 

“What do you say to giving me a ride in with you to work tomorrow?” Jake asks. “After you’ve made me breakfast,” he presses a quick kiss against Simon’s lips, “in bed,” he finishes, putting particularly emphases on it. 

Simon kisses him for real, giving them both a moment to dwell in it. “Well I’m sure as hell not putting up with your cooking,” he says, once they pull apart. He steps back a few paces into the flat, his fingers still hooked in Jake’s trousers, pulling Jake in along with him. The door closes with a slam in their wake.


End file.
